The Pink Panther (1963)

The 1960s: It's all we had before Mad Men. And oh, how The Pink Panther does the Sixties: the women's hair, the women's clothes, the dinner parties, the smoking, and the catchy musical number (see en.wikipedia.org/wiki/ It_Had_Better_Be_Tonight for the lyrics to Meglio Stasera, or, It Had Better Be Tonight). I hadn't seen this Peter Sellers classic since grad school but it remains an absolute standard in the annals of perfectly measured, underplayed, hilarious physical humor. (Based on the previews alone, I expect to spew French champagne -- in disgust, not mirth -- when I view Steve Martin's palsied attempts to portray Inspector Clouseau's verbal and physical humor.) Its simplicity may date it a bit after 45 years -- and, during the Seventies, Sellers' slapstick became gradually broader and more violent -- but in my mind you just cannot get closer to the Zen of the perfect pratfall outside of Peter Sellers' Pink Panther pantheon. His ineptitude is unstintingly matchless: He's so in love with his wife (Capucine as Simone Clouseau here, Lady Charles Litton in 1964's A Shot in the Dark and other sequels) that he literally hasn't a clue -- and her half of the lovebirds' duet is played flawlessly (with all due irony). Claudia Cardinale was even more deadpan than Sophie Marceau opposite Pierce Brosnan -- and all her lines were dubbed since she couldn't speak English -- but her fireside banter with David Niven felt spontaneous and sweet. It's just as well, since she's playing the ice (virgin) princess to her people and her heritage; in the end, she's probably the most humanized character in the cast -- except for Clouseau's sympathetic uberschlub. (Niven was supposed to the the star of the series but the unknown Sellers immediately became the much-loved focus of the franchise.) You simply must see the original Pink Panther movie. It's classic Sixties and it's classic lowkey schtick. Gotta love it! 4.5 stars. (2-5-09)